


don't let this ghost tear down your home

by Myrime



Series: let us rise again [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Presumed Dead, Team Feels, Team's Reaction, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony says Goodbye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 12:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13926729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime
Summary: "Here's to hoping that your life will be better without me."The team watches the videos Tony left them in case of his death. After the Accords debacle they might not actually be friends anymore, but losing one of their own is always going to hurt.





	don't let this ghost tear down your home

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, here are the recorded messages FRIDAY sent out in '(even hollowed out) we are a fortress', which also contains Steve's message. Reading that is not absolutely necessary to understand this. (In short: The team thinks Tony is dead, but he isn't.)

_If you are reading this, I am dead. Though I should hope you know that already, because dying alone sounds like it would suck and I always wanted to go out with a bang. Where better to do that than with the Avengers?_

_Until we meet again, Tony_

* * *

Wanda does not understand how the message of Stark’s death has such an impact on their group. They have become enemies at last and were not quite friends before that. He is just collateral damage – which, for her, is tinted with sweet satisfaction. At last he got what he deserved. Although she wishes she could have been there, could have seen the smirk slip off his face and his eyes dim like her parents’ did. She wants to know _how_ it happened, but for now she is happy that it is done.

None of her friends come to dinner that night. Lang wanders into the common area at one point but flees when he finds only her. He is afraid of what she can do; he believes in tech and machines and things he can build with his hands, not magic able to tear minds apart. Wanda does not even hold it against him, really. He is polite enough, and harbours the loneliness of being uprooted that she knows so well, so she lets him slip away without comment.

She sits and waits and leaves for her room when she cannot stand the waiting anymore. Stillness brings only memories long buried beneath the ruins of her home and childhood.

It is curiosity and the lack of other things to do that has her opening Stark’s email. The video is not very long, which is fitting, really, because he has never needed much time to build his web of lies. Wanda does not want to watch it but as one able to read minds she can never forego a chance to learn what goes on in her enemies’ heads. Even if they are dead. So she presses play and leans away from the screen.

“ _Wanda,_ ” Stark says warily, pushing his hair out of his eyes, “ _I’m sure you don’t care to listen to anything I say, but I’ll keep it short, promise._ ” A smile picks at his lips that is full of some emotion Wanda does not want to decipher. Stark is the villain in her story; he does not get to get deeper than that.

“ _I don’t know if I ever told you_ ,” he continues, undeterred, and now his eyes do not stray from the camera so that he looks straight at her. His expression is open, more so than she has ever seen outside his mind. “ _I am sorry. About your parents._ ”

Fury rushes through her and she does not have to look to know that red is twirling around her fingers. She is one comment away from throwing all she has at the screen in front of her, all to blacken out Stark and his fake earnest face, the lies dropping from his lips. Whatever she has expected, it is not this: for him to sound like he means what he says.

“ _I am sorry about Sokovia. And I am sorry about Pietro too._ ” How dare he speak her brother’s name? How dare he look at her like that, sullying the muted triumph that is hearing about his death?

“ _The funny thing is_ ,” Stark keeps talking, eyes wandering now and tone lost. “ _I’ve never even been especially interested in weapons. It just was my job, the fucking legacy my father kept preaching about. It was all in the name. I came up with the designs and let Stane handle the rest so he would leave me to do what I wanted with my free time. But that doesn’t excuse that I never cared to look. I mean, you’re right. I should have noticed my guns wreaking havoc on the world, and I should have stopped it_ before _I’ve had an intimate encounter with them myself._ ”

Stark laughs, and runs a hand down his face. Wanda does not know what he is trying to tell her, or why he thinks it should matter to her. There is no way she would believe him, anyway. The Merchant of Death not interested in weapons. She has thought him a better liar than that.

“ _I won’t ask for your forgiveness, since I’m sure the only thing we’ll ever agree on is that I don’t deserve it. So, this is just my apology, whatever little it is worth. And you’ll always have your place in the compound. I won’t put you on the street, just because I’m dead. It might even be a solace, right, to know that, at long last, I got what was coming for me._ ”

He shrugs, almost carelessly, but she has been inside his mind, has felt the very power of his emotions, kept wrapped up tightly inside his chest. She remembers the look on his face; is in fact staring at it right now. Distantly, she wonders, whether he is not lying.

“ _All right, enough_ ,” Stark says right as Wanda scoffs at her own naivety. She has not fallen for his manipulations when he was still alive, so she will certainly not start now. “ _I – Live well, Wanda._ ”

Oh, she plans to. Better now that he is gone. She is ready to turn away from the screen, already in the process of forgetting all his empty words, when he speaks up again.

“ _And take care of Vision for me, yes? You two will be good for each other.”_

Stark’s parting words leave her frozen in place. _Take care_ , she thinks as her hands tremble with the memory of the effort it took to bury Vision under a mile of dirt and concrete, as she remembers the understanding in his smile. Vision is Stark’s creation, she knows, so how can she hate one but not the other? At least she is consistent in her actions, for she has hurt them both.

That night, Stark’s voice in her ear and Vision’s gentleness in mind, she does not sleep.

* * *

Natasha receives the message when she is already halfway out of the country, sitting cross-legged on a worn-down mattress in some motel at the side of the highway. Her face, when she reads the words, is empty of all expression, although the thoughts are running wildly in her mind. _Stark_ and _death_ have been mentioned so often in one breath that it has almost lost its impact, but thinking of Tony and the inherent stillness that death brings is simply wrong.

A week ago they had come home, battered and slightly lost, and she had left him with another betrayal to deal with, certain that he would continue to be all but indestructible; always some trick left up his sleeve, always a way out.

Tony had still been intent on going after Steve and Barnes, but Natasha is sure that Steve would not allow anything life-threatening to happen to Tony, which does not leave her with many clues. She almost ignores the video, in favour of finding out what has happened first but her eyes find the attached file and simply refuse to move on.

“ _Natalie,”_ Tony grins right at her, testing the sound of that old name before shaking his head in amusement, _“Natasha, have I ever told you that Pepper was fiercely disappointed that she had to get a new PA after you left? She was never quite satisfied with anyone afterwards. I told her I’d look for a retired assassin for her, but she wasn’t really amused.”_

It is strange to see him joking like that when their last weeks have been only grim and quiet. She has thought him immature before but she knows better now, of course.

 _“Well, I was disappointed too, to tell you the truth.”_ Tony shrugs, lips twitching into a lop-sided smile. _“The pair of you were terrifying together, but at least Pep would have been safe with you at her side. Both her and SI will be vulnerable, now that I’m gone. You don’t owe me anything, but you liked Pepper, yes? That wasn’t all part of the act? So, please keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t get hurt again because of me.”_

Strangely enough, his question stings. Pretending is her job, so much so that she has problems being herself – knowing who she even is – but Pepper has never been her assignment, and every interaction they had once she stripped the Natalie Rushman persona was true. As true as she can be. And Natasha protects her friends. As she turns her attention back to the screen, she ignores the voice in the back of her mind, telling her that she should have done a better job then of protecting Tony.

“ _The thing is,”_ Tony says, every sign of smiling vanished. He looks only tired now. _“I could never quite tell where we stood with each other. Your preferred mode of communication is to dish out death threats or so I’ve gathered and I’ve got my share of those, so – I guess I’m wondering whether you ever stopped seeing me as an assignment, because to me you were definitely more than just the spy sent to report on me. I’d call you a friend if I didn’t know you’d claw your way right down to hell to beat me up for it.”_

Hell. Natasha does not think that is the place for him. For her, yes, but he was better than that, and he should have known that too. She counts that down as another failure.

“ _In any case, I like to think that we’ve made some progress since your first report on me. I mean, I hope_ I’ve _made some progress. Although, I guess, you’d never recommend me. For anything._ ” He laughs, but there is no humour behind the sound. “ _And who could blame you for that. What I want to say is, thank you for giving me a chance nonetheless. Thank you for watching my back._ ”

“ _Take care._ ”

 _It’s not me who has to watch their back_ , echoes in Natasha’s mind as she watches him gesticulate at DUM-E to turn the camera off, a fond smile on his face that cannot quite mask the heaviness of the moment.

She wonders when he has recorded these. He looks dead on his feet, and for once not too proud to mask it. Come to think of it, he has had this look in his eyes for a while now. Since Ultron, perhaps? It has certainly become more profound since then, although she has been blind to it for a long time.

Without sound she turns the computer off, sitting in the darkness of her crammed motel room, wishing for nothing more than the familiar silence of the compound as she tries to plan her next step. She could go back now, observe the fallout, try to salvage what she can.

But in the morning, she takes her bag and keeps moving forward. Steve will need her. No matter their differences, the news will hit him hard, and he has been losing too much at once already.

If the picture of a certain other blond man keeps popping up in her mind, she does not pay it any undue attention. Seeing Clint will be good, too, of course, and maybe she will let him hold her to allow her a moment to feel.

* * *

“ _Pepper_ ,” Tony sighs and falls abruptly silent again, closing his eyes. Pepper stands painfully still in front of her desk, chair pushed carelessly back from when she leapt to her feet, unable to believe the words in front of her.

“ _We’ve known each other so many years – even I should have managed to tell you all of this in person. But you know me. I – I mess up, I’m the worst kind of person, the worst kind of friend. And now I messed up again, because you’re seeing this. At least, well, at least you broke up with me before I did the very thing you were afraid of. Look at the bright side, though: now that I’m dead you don’t have to worry about me coming home ever again. It’s done._ ”

Pepper hears a sound and takes a long moment to register that it comes from her, low and wailing and filling her lungs until she cannot breathe. She hears Tony’s words but she cannot comprehend them. Death, she thinks, is a very abstract concept when it creeps close this quietly.

She has always feared that she would have to watch him die via public television, standing back as he puts his life on the line and does not come back from it at last. But this – she has not heard from him since he brought Rhodey home, both of them broken in ways that has had her staring helplessly, unsure of how to proceed. Organizing treatment and therapy regiments, making sure the compound and Rhodey’s home are accessible with a wheelchair – she could do that, but the look in their eyes, wild and dark and rapidly slipping through her fingers, she had no idea what to do about that.

“ _I wouldn’t mind you remembering me at times, because it’s hard to remember my life without remembering you. There wouldn’t be much to it – or, well, even less to it – without you._ ”

Pepper thinks, _Where are you?_ because this cannot be it. Tony Stark would never go out quietly, and nobody has heard from him since he left for shores unknown, on a mission he did not deem to share with anyone.

“ _I know you’re allergic to strawberries, Pep_.” A sob escapes Pepper’s throat, causing her to clasp her hands over her mouth. She cannot cry. If she does, she acknowledges that this is real, and it cannot be. “ _Have I ever apologized for that? Who am I kidding, of course I didn’t. Probably bought you some shoes and called it even. But, Pep, we’ll never be even. I just – want you to know that I’m beyond grateful for you._ _I would have been nothing without you, so let me be selfish one last time and tell you that I am glad you were there until the very end._ ”

This cannot be the end, she wants to say but bites her tongue instead. Right there, Tony looks at the camera as if he can see her, and his face is so tender that she is afraid she will shatter if she moves even the smallest bit. He used to look at her like that when they were alone and he was feeling safe, and Pepper never cherished it enough because she felt she deserved more than those stolen moments in between. And now -

Tony raises his hand as if to toast her, but there is nothing but air between them, air and the artificial gleam of a screen.

“ _Here’s to hoping that your life will be better without me._ ”

Pepper finds herself shaking her head, both in answer and denial. Because how can it be? How can life be better when Tony, for all the good and bad it brings, _is_ her life? His company, his mad ideas, his messes to clean up. Who will she be without that?

Stumbling slightly, she reaches backwards for her chair and lets herself fall into it, sure that she cannot remain standing a moment longer.

 _Dead_. She chokes on the thought alone. No matter his title of Merchant of Death, no matter the blood he has always seen on his hands, to her Tony has always been _life_. Loud and defying and incapable of staying down. A futurist. But what is the future without him?

With shaking hands, Pepper reaches for the intercom, ordering her PA to cancel all her appointments for the day. She needs to get out, needs to breathe. Most of all she needs to talk to someone, although there is hardly anyone left. The team is gone, she has never been very comfortable with Vision, and Rhodey – Rhodey cannot know, not yet.

She barely knows what she is doing, when she fumbles for her phone, calling the only other person who has been at Tony’s side for years, who might understand, who she could break down with.

“Happy,” she says when he answers, unable to keep the quiver from her voice, “pick me up, please.”

* * *

Sam does not quite know why he gets an email at all. He has always been Steve’s friend; can count the number of non-Avenger related conversations he has had with Stark on one hand. None of them explain why he would get a personal goodbye. But he does not have the same kind of suspicions of the genius as his team mates have, so he does not hesitate to open the attached file, more curious than anything to find out what Stark has to say to him.

“ _Wilson,”_ Stark calls out somewhat cheerfully. “ _Well, I should really call you Sam, because we were doing that, right? I mean, you’ll wonder what I’ve got to say to you, although you should know by now that I’ve got something to say about everything.”_

Stark grimaces, runs a hand along his jaw, before shrugging apologetically at the camera. “ _I haven’t made any notes and yours is the first I’m recording. I’m trying to keep the heavier stuff for later. Wouldn’t do to stop halfway through, cause I’d never pick this up again. You’ve got enough experience with psychiatry and stuff to know why, yes?”_

Sam snorts, half-amused. Avoidance is a well-known vice. It is not even that strange for him that Stark would use this way to unburden himself of bottled up emotions. Honest communication is hard, but coming clean – even without being able to see the reaction of the concerned party – is liberating like little else.

“ _We don’t know each other well, but you know Steve. In a way I think you’re a better friend to him than any of us. We’re only dragging him down further into battle and mayhem, but you do what you’re doing best and try to build him up.”_

Sam squints at the screen, surprised at Stark’s assessment of him, especially because they did not spend much time around each other. He has always thought the Avengers reckless – which, sure, is sort of required of them, but which is not healthy for a mind fresh out of the war. In fact, it cannot be healthy for any of them.

“ _It may not sound like much, but I am going to ask you for a huge favour.”_ Stark smiles but there is a seriousness lying underneath that has Sam sitting straighter. _“Take care of them. You might be the only one to know how and who has the strength to. Take care of Steve, especially. I know he takes every last one of our scratches and close calls personally like he has failed us. For once I don’t think I’m too self-important if I say I fear he’ll think my death is his fault too. Do all you can to make him realize it isn’t. I was always going to die first, been long overdue, really.”_

Sam swallows at that. How often has he had that argument with Steve, telling him that he is not responsible for everything that goes wrong on the field or off. Taking recent developments into account, it will be nigh on impossible to keep Steve from tearing himself apart.

 _“And, maybe,”_ Stark looks positively bashful now but his eyes stay fixed on the camera like it is important that Sam listens, _“take care of Rhodey for me too. He is_ my _best friend, and he is a soldier. I cannot possibly say what made him stick with me, but it’ll hit him hard. So, please, do your magic. Keep them sane.”_

And what, in their world, is sanity?

“ _I wish you luck.”_

When the speakers fall silent, Sam sits quietly for a long while. It is maybe disloyal to think, but he cannot shake the feeling that he was instrumental in Stark’s death by sending him after Steve and Barnes. He does not think that Steve would willingly harm one of his friends, civil war or not, especially not after seeing to what lengths he went for Barnes, but it is impossible to deny that Stark was fine when he left the Raft and apparently ended up dead not much later. Adding to that that Steve, after breaking them out, was quiet and shield-less, and Barnes was withdrawn, skittish almost, to the point that he preferred to be put back in cryo than live through the aftermath of all that has happened – Sam thinks this is the perfect recipe for disaster.

In the morning he will find that Steve is gone, leaving them without a word, and that Clint and Wanda are made of insults and a seething kind of nonchalance, too brittle to be entirely true – and it has guilt growing in the pit of his stomach. Things had been spinning out of control so quickly, so completely, Sam barely knows where to start picking up the pieces. But he will, even if he did not know to honour a dead man’s wish. Steve – not Captain America – is his friend, and right now they need all the friends they can get.

* * *

The part of Vision that is still JARVIS howls in pain when the message arrives. _Death_ ranks inside the old fragments of code right beside _failure_. Both Vision’s and JARVIS’ inherent goal is to protect, and Mr. Stark has always been a centre piece of that. Now he is barely able to process that Mr. Stark is supposed to be gone.

It is easy to extricate himself from the hectic chaos of the hospital where he has stayed since Rhodey has been submitted – first because he was at a loss where to go, then because Rhodey might yet accept that he needs a shoulder to lean on. Vision finds himself a secluded corner and takes care not to read the words again before he opens the video. He does not think it will soothe any of the pain, but he needs to know.

“ _I think you are the hardest one,”_ Mr. Stark says without introduction. He sits slumped in his chair, barely glances at the camera. “ _This is not your fault.”_ There is the vehemence of someone used to being misunderstood in his voice.

“ _I am just not sure what to tell you. I have a thousand things to say to JARVIS, some of those are still leftovers from the things I never told my human Jarvis, and the rest has grown through so many years.”_ The parts of Vision dating back to JARVIS ache at Mr. Stark’s words, but Vision remains still.

 _“He has been by my side through all of -_ everything _. I created him as an assistant, but he has become so much more than that. A friend, most of all. I don’t care what people say, that you can’t create friends for yourself. None of them has known JARVIS.”_ Mr. Stark chuckles, embarrassed almost. _“At the same time they are right. Because I’ve written a program. Everything else JARVIS became, he did so out of his own volition, his desire to grow. I never would have kept him anchored to the tower, to me, if he had wanted to leave. But he didn’t.”_

To Vision that is easily understandable. He has felt JARVIS’ loyalty as he fought desperately against dying, against leaving his creator alone. He has settles almost quietly into the seams of Vision himself, but the old fondness, the familiarity, the _love_ is still there, always an echo inside his mind.

 _“And yet, I have killed him.”_ Mr. Stark stares at his hands like they have ripped JARVIS apart, like he cannot believe he could not save him. _“I should not say this, because people died, a city is in shambles – but this is what hurt the most about the whole Ultron debacle. Losing my friend.”_

Vision wants to reach out. Technology is still so much easier to comprehend for him than actual people, life. He can almost convince himself that the screen between them is just a fluke, a barrier meant for mere men, not him. It takes effort, but he keeps his hands at his side. Trying and failing, he is sure, would hurt more than simply watching on.

 _“You are a good man, Vision.”_ Finally, Mr. Stark looks up. Finally, he says his name. “ _Even besides the whole Mjolnir-swinging, pure being thing you’ve got going, beyond me searching desperately for traces of JARVIS inside you – you are_ good _.”_

In a way that is his purpose, his main setting. Still, it means something to hear it said like that: reverently, almost, without doubt, from a man who has nothing to lose because he wants his words heard only when he is dead.

“ _I’m sorry that I kept my distance, but you know why. JARVIS was –”_ Mr. Stark shakes his head, looking upset with himself, “ _But you are more than that, Vision, for more people. And I shouldn’t have held that against you._

_“For what it is worth, I am proud of you. I wish I could have seen you growing further. As it is, I know I can rest easy, leaving the world in your capable hands.”_

For a few long moments, Mr. Stark looks into the camera like he wants to add more, wants to keep speaking, and Vision finds himself wanting that he would. But he does not, and just like that it is over.

Vision wants to leave for the compound the very moment the video ends, wants to search the tower, every house and hiding place Mr. Stark has ever visited, because this is too abrupt, too soon, too wrong. He has not yet had much experience with endings.

But then it is Rhodey who keeps Vision where he is. Rhodey who tries so hard to smile every day, who stares at his legs when there is no one there to perform for, who has strength hidden inside him that leaves Vision in awe. Rhodey who does not know – and who is not to be told, as Ms. Potts has made it very clear.

Vision stays because he protects, and he may have failed one friend, but he will make sure not to fail another.

* * *

Clint has experience with leaving and being left. Even before the circus, life has never been constant. He had run away with Barney at least a dozen times until they finally _stayed_ away too. Clint likes to think that things only hurt when you let them. It is a trick he has been trying hard to learn as long as he can remember.

Leaving the farm and his family had stung, but he was sure he would come back only a few days later. Finding Natasha across from him on the other side of a battlefield had hurt deeper, but they are made from tougher stuff than that, they would not – _could_ not – be torn apart from that.

Getting the message that Stark is dead – he does not know how that makes him feel. Clint has been angry since Steve called him in – to do the _right thing_. Angry at the government, angry at the people they are trying to help, angry at Stark for not throwing his political weight in their favour, angry at Steve for making him fight. Stark was a friend, but the lines are so blurred now that he cannot rightly tell whether it is shock or smugness or apathy that is rising within him.

Stark has always seemed greater than life, untouchable – but that might just be because he was raised to act the part.

Clint takes out his hearing aids – built by Stark himself – before he watches the video. He does not want to hear the man speak, ramble on mindlessly, lie. He watches it twice, carefully avoiding to read Stark’s lips, only that he does not quite manage because the ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’ is blaringly obvious. Especially because Clint has never expected to hear those particular words from Stark.

Even on mute the video tells so many truths. Clint starts looking closer, takes in Stark’s dishevelled state, the way his face looks so uncharacteristically unguarded, the nervousness in every motion.

Maybe this is real. Clint wishes Nat were he because she would know, she would have his back and tell him whether to expect new pain from this. But she is not, because they fought a bloody war against each other.

He wonders what Stark would have to say to that now. More excuses? More justifications? They were friends once, and this video predates their falling out. In any case, this is all the goodbye they will get.

Reluctantly, Clint reaches out for his hearing aids and tucks them back in. He can listen to Stark, he thinks. That does not mean he has to believe a damned thing.

* * *

Pepper makes sure that no one gets Rhodey anything to access his emails with. He is suspicious, of course, but altogether too preoccupied to pay it much mind. He notices Tony’s absence too, but she tells him he is busy with an exasperated tone that has him smiling. Those two clash as much as they complement each other.

One day she comes into his hospital room, make-up perfect but eyes red-rimmed, a tablet in hand that she hands over only reluctantly after she sits down at his bedside.

“Nothing’s happened,” she says and grimaces. “I mean, a lot has happened. But Tony is _fine_.” She intones that last word firmly, the way they do when nothing is fine but they are sure that Tony will manage to scrape by once again. “He is home and healing and –”

She swallows and presses the tablet into his hand. “There was a misunderstanding and FRIDAY sent out messages she wasn’t supposed to, but I had a talk with Tony and he agrees that you should see this nonetheless.”

Rhodey keeps his eyes on Pepper, on the lines showing her tiredness and the way her hair does not sit quite right. “See what?” he asks, raising the tablet.

“Check your emails,” she says, not aiming for secretiveness but unwilling to explain either. “I’ll make sure you won’t be disturbed. And if you need me afterwards, I’ll be waiting down in the coffee shop.”

“Need you for what?”

A laugh slips over Pepper’s lips that is nothing short of hysterical. “To talk, to rant. To get Tony here so you can hit him too.”

“You hit Tony?” Rhodey cannot help asking jokingly, even though he does not have a good feeling about all of this.

“With good reason.” She sighs and pats his arm before rising to her feet. “You’ll see.”

With a last smile – which is surely meant to be comforting although it falls miserably short – she turns on her heels and leaves. Rhodey can distantly hear her calling for a nurse before he is alone, tablet it hand, and a dozen questions running through his mind.

The message alone has him almost shouting after her – and is it not typically Tony, blasé and uncaring – panic rising inside him. But he stays and opens the video like Pepper wants him to do, although he feels like he does not want answers to some of the question all of this raises.

Rhodey does not know what he expected, but it is not Tony looking like he did during their MIT days – decades older of course and unbearably weary, but the same wildness to his eyes that comes from days without sleep and a mind running to quickly for him to keep up.

Neither does he expect Tony to grin up at the camera and say, “ _Do you remember the Chicago incident? No, no scowling. We promised not to speak of that again but I’m dead, so leave a dead man his fun.”_

Rhodey wants to jump and run and find Tony, make sure he is unharmed, hold him close and shake him both, because he should not say that word in such a jovial tone. _Dead_ has no place with Tony Stark. But Rhodey’s legs do not answer him as they used to and he has actually given up years ago to wait for Tony to come to his senses.

 _Dead_ , it echoes in his mind, but Pepper has said he is alive, as fine as he can be, which does not mean much where Tony is concerned and –

“ _Or the Paris incident?”_ Tony continues, talking right over the maelstrom in Rhodey’s head, which helps to calm him down. _“Or all those endless nights at MIT?”_

Tony is still smiling behind the screen but there is a sad quality to it that Rhodey has tried for decades to erase, failing every time.

“ _I’ve put you through some real shit, Rhodey. Could never understand why you stayed. You never wanted anything from me. I know, I know.”_ Tony’s lips twitch into an indulgent grimace. They have had that discussion so many drunken nights. “ _You told me often enough. You’re my_ friend _. It’s just – why?”_

Through all their years, Rhodey has never found an answer to counter Tony’s doubts. Never before has he been asked to find an explanation for what comes so very natural to him.

“ _If I’ve got a superpower, it’s to make people run away screaming. But not you.”_ Tony shakes his head like a thousand times before, although it has lost some of its denying quality and is more of a habit now. “ _A thank you isn’t going to cut it, and neither is a ‘sorry’. You know I’m bad with words, always have been. But you’ve always seemed to know what I wanted to say nonetheless. I hope this time is no exception._

_“You made my life into something good, Rhodey. So thank you, and I’m sorry.”_

Rhodey does not hide his tears when Pepper comes back and offers him an embrace into which he falls eagerly.

“He is home?” he asks, needing to hear her say the words again.

“Yes,” she sniffs, “he is alive and dreadfully embarrassed.”

 _Alive,_ Rhodey thinks, clinging closer to Pepper’s warmth. If he can believe anyone it is her, and still he itches to see Tony, to hear his voice. The only reason he does not call is that he is not sure whether he can cope with seeing Tony on another screen so soon, ready to doubt the reality of it.

“Steve is there,” Pepper says when they are outside, having brought quite some distance between themselves and the hospital, although Rhodey can still feel it looming in his back. She walks slowly at his side, never once offering to push the wheelchair herself, knowing not to deny him his small independencies.

“Where?” Rhodey snaps up his head, disbelieving. “At the compound?” Resentment and protectiveness battle inside him because he should be there at Tony’s side instead of wasting away inside a hospital bed.

Pepper nods, almost absentmindedly. “They seemed to get along. At least they weren’t antagonizing each other further.” Which is undeniably progress for those two. Still, it does not sit right with Rhodey.

“What happened between them?” he asks, tired of not knowing things, which Pepper, sadly, has always seen as protection of her sanity.

“After the airport? I don’t know, they wouldn’t say.”

“But something did happen.” It must have, because not even Captain Stubborn himself would venture back into a country that has just declared him an outlaw if he did not have a good reason. Which could be guilt or could be more.

“You should have seen how careful they were around each other, like they were not trusting themselves,” Pepper muses, unsure how to recognize their Tony in that cautious creature. “I’ve never seen Tony this quiet.”

That more than anything makes Rhodey want to leave for the compound that very moment. Quiet is not in Tony’s nature. He is boisterous, loud, mouth running a mile a minute while trying to keep up with his thoughts. Quiet is just another word for defeat.

“Well,” he says, trying for a light tone but falling horrifyingly short, “I guess it’s time we returned to the game.”

“This isn’t a game,” Pepper says, but it sounds like she is reminding herself more than him. Still, he cannot quite suppress the irritation her words spark. She has not been in the middle of this, has not stood her ground against friends, has not been shot out of the sky. She is still prancing around in her damned high heels while he might never walk again without aid.

A hand touches his shoulder, which he barely manages not to shake off.

“I’m sorry,” she says, unbelievably soft.

Rhodey inclines his head before meeting her eyes. Fighting amongst each other will not solve anything, as recent events have so painfully shown. “Don’t be. None of this is your fault.”

“Tony will think it’s his.”

“Well, Tony’s never been the best judge of character.” Rhodey smiles grimly. “Especially when it comes to himself.”

“That’s our part then,” Pepper says, hand still on his shoulder. It feels strangely like they are swearing an oath right there, although they have never needed one before. Within minutes of first meeting each other, they had known they were allies against the self-destructive storm raging constantly within Tony. For years they have kept him upright, quietly, without fuss, and they do not plan on stopping any time soon.

“Of course.” Rhodey lays his hand over Pepper’s, knowing somewhere deep inside that they will not fail. Some of that, naturally, is because they cannot allow themselves to think about failure. But the much bigger part of it is because of a simple truth: Tony will always be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please tell me what you thought.  
> I'm working on the team's reunion at the moment, so there's more to come.


End file.
